


Time to Breathe

by ilyena_sylph



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-AMoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph
Summary: Post-AMoL, Perrin has to tell Faile.





	Time to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel/gifts).



Faile had opened her eyes, and smiled at him. She'd gone out again barely a moment later, too tired even with Healing, and the healer that had saved her incapable of washing away fatigue. A moment later, and Perrin had collapsed onto a pallet with her still in his arms at the healer's urging. 

But Faile had opened her eyes. Faile was alive, when he had thought her dead. 

It was enough, for the moment, when so many _were_ dead, that she had opened her eyes. 

Light, he didn't even know how many were dead. Hundreds of thousands. And Rand was dying, slowly, inexorably. If Nynaeve and Flinn could not help, no-one alive could. Perrin was so tired. Too tired to go back to his dying friend's bedside. Too tired... 

Unknowing, he collapsed into sleep of his own. True sleep, not the wolf dream. 

+++ 

Soft, if lumpy, bedding was the first thing Faile knew, as she slowly surfaced out of blackness. Sweat-scent and her husband's weight were the second, and she took a shaking breath. She felt a little weak, but. 

They were both alive. She'd known she was dead when she fell, but... her blacksmith, her wolf king, had found her. He slept beside her, looking years older in his exhaustion. She would not wake him, if she could avoid it. By the sounds, and the dim light of lanterns mostly-shrouded, they were in a tent full of former wounded and barely-injured... not Mayene, then. 

Well. Probably wise of Perrin. There were still those who thought as stupidly as she once had, that the First had hooks in her husband. Where? Merrilor still? 

She needed to know what had happened. 

Obviously, they had won, if she was alive, and Perrin was here. But at what cost? How great had the bill been? 

Carefully, she began trying to slip free of his arms. Fruitless effort, she realized a moment later, as his impossibly powerful arms closed around her. Faile sighed softly, under her breath, and silently cursed herself a moment later as Perrin's golden eyes opened. "I did not mean to wake you," she murmured quietly. 

"That's all right," he answered, just as soft. "We're... oh. I remember." 

Well, she was glad one of them did. She arched a brow, and he shook his head, and carefully, as though he had been badly beaten, opened his arms just long enough to stand up from the pallet, before he reached down to draw her to her feet. 

She stood, careful, but of course she was whole, now. A Healer, Aes Sedai, Kinswoman, Windfinder, or even _damane_ had been at her, by the feel of her body and her bones. She was impressed he did not try to carry her -- and relieved. She would not have liked to stomp on his foot, but she would not be coddled when she was healthy enough to stand. From beside him, he lifted _Mah'alleinir_ again, hooking it in its loops. She held onto his hand, fiercely, grateful he had come back to her (for her), as they made their way quietly out of the tent, out of the exhausted healed. 

By the flap, two white-robed _gai'shain_ knelt, waiting, but they weren't Bain and Chiad, so Faile did nothing but nod. 

Outside, dawn was breaking, brilliant and beautiful, above -- 

\-- terror stopped her heart for a moment, as she saw the spire of Shayol Ghul just in front of them, other tents pitched nearby, and Perrin's hand squeezed hers as he moved to wrap her in his arms. "It's all right, Faile," he said, soft, his head dipped down to her ear. "It's all right. It's only a mountain, now. Rand even -- Rand -- 

"There are flowers, and grass." 

Her wolf king's voice had broken, stammered on his friend's name, and Faile looked up at him in the dawn light, her free hand sliding up to his cheek. Flowers. And grass. On the slopes of _Shayol Ghul_. Light _Illumine_ the world! "Perrin?" 

"He -- " Perrin shook his head, his eyes shining wetly instead of just with their golden hue. "It happened as -- " His voice broke off again, and Faile only held on, sliding her hand into the thick mass of black, curly hair at his nape. 

Rand al'Thor had frightened her when first they met, and though she knew how deeply Perrin loved him, she had never gotten past that fact. He had not given her much reason to. But her husband's friend was dead, and she grieved for that. It had been inevitable. The Dragon Reborn had to die for the world to live. 

But the Dragon Reborn was also Rand, Perrin's friend. "I'm so sorry," she said, soft, before Perrin's free hand moved fast as lightning to the haft of _Mah'alleinir_. 

"It's only me, Perrin," Tam al'Thor's voice said, quiet, and Perrin relaxed. So did Faile, from where she'd been twisting her wrist for a sleeve-knife. "Lady Faile. " 

"Tam?" Perrin asked, turning. "What.. why are you -- " 

"I couldn't sleep, lad," Tam answered. Faile thought he sounded like he needed a week's sleep, but... probably everyone did. "They tried to wake you, for... the pyre, but you were both sleeping too soundly. So I told everyone to leave you be. It can all wait."

"Oh, no. He's -- " 

"It's done," Tam said, his voice rough as Perrin's had been ragged, and Faile freed herself from Perrin to move to reach for Tam's hand. Tam had been a bastion of support to them for so long, had been their forthright hand... it was Tam's son that had died. She had seen her father when her older brothers died. It had nearly ripped the heart out of him where he stood. She was putting one hand forward to him, to offer what useless comfort she could, when awareness struck her. 

Her father. 

Where -- no. That would wait. 

"I'm sorry, Tam," Faile said, sincerely. "We should have -- " 

"No, Lady," Tam shook his head in the dawn light, but he took her hand for a moment. "We told few, allowed few to be there. As he would have wanted. Mat wasn't here, either. Don't worry over that. 

"Perrin, have you...?" There was a terrifying weight in those words, that Faile didn't want to think on, to look at. Whatever Tam wanted to know, Faile didn't want the answer. 

"No. We only just woke up. I don't -- " Perrin's voice paused, then he said something different. "We're going to go somewhere alone." 

"Every channeler in this camp is asleep, Perrin, and some of those went to sleep standing," Tam said, his voice uncertain. "It was decided we could all stay where we are for a while. It's over, after all." 

"I don't need the One Power to go where I want, Tam," Perrin said, sounding bizarrely confident, and a little resigned. "And we're going away, for a bit. We'll be back, and I'm sure there will be more than enough to do." 

What? Faile twisted around in the dawn light, staring up at him. What did he mean, he didn't need the Power to go where he wanted? 

"That," Tam agreed, exhaustion in his voice, as much as his face, "there will. All right, Perrin. But you should eat, both of you. I've a pack here, not much, but enough." 

"Thank you, Tam." 

Faile raised a brow. "You don't need the One Power?" 

"I learned how to step in and out of the wolf dream in the flesh, and I can take people with me," Perrin replied. "We can go anywhere." 

He'd done _what_?! Faile stared at him, then just shook her head in amazement. "My ridiculous, wolf-king husband," she said softly. "All right. What is Tam asking --" 

"Once we're away," Perrin said over the end of her question, firmly. "Not yet." 

Faile growled, but subsided into quiet for the brief moments it took for Tam to reacquire and hand over the pack. Perrin took it, laid his hand back on her shoulder, and... the world turned inside out once, twice... and they were... she wasn't sure where. A huge plain stretched all around them, and not a half-dozen paces away there was a ring of huge trees. 

"An abandoned _stedding_ ," Perrin said, even before she could ask. "There's good water, and... nowhere more peaceful." He put his arm around her, and they walked inside. 

"An abandoned -- Perrin, is this -- ??" 

"Yes," Perrin agreed, "but... that's over, finally. And I wanted somewhere safe. Harder to get safer than a _stedding_. Here, this way." 

He led her, and they settled beside a small spring. He unpacked the meal Tam had found them with quick motions, and the scent of fresh bread that hadn't spoiled hit Faile like her husband's hammer might have in someone else's hand. 

Both of them went silent as they ate to fill their bellies and feed the hunger Healing brought, as the sun rose little by little in the east. 

"All right, Perrin," Faile said, licking the last crumbs of more food than she should have eaten from her fingers. "What is it? What's so bad you wanted me hundreds of miles from anyone?" 

She could almost see Perrin try to shrink into himself a little, and his golden eyes closed. "I... didn't want you to have to worry about keeping... your chin up, I guess, in front of anyone. You shouldn't -- you feel so deeply. I wanted privacy for you." 

"For what?" 

Perrin still wasn't looking at her. "Queen Tenobia is dead, my wife. As -- as are -- " now his eyes opened. "General and Lady Bashere." 

Faile took a deep breath at the first words. She hadn't always liked Tenobia, but her cousin was a good queen. Tenobia dead was a grievous lo -- 

For a moment. Two. Three, the words made no sense. Her father, dead? But Father was a Great Captain, canny and wise beyond measure, powerful with blade and mind, and Mother would have been defending him. She shook her head, denying the words, the possibility. No, it couldn't -- 

"I'm so sorry, my wife," Perrin said, and the quiet understanding in his voice ripped into her. Perrin wouldn't tell her this if it wasn't true, but -- no, **no**!

She'd spent so long running away from what they wanted her to be, from the trap of -- 

\-- she'd missed years with her parents. 

She was Saldaean, she knew anyone could die -- she'd lost her older brother, after all -- but she'd. She'd apparently... never believed that that included her father. 

It was unbelievable. Her fingers spasmed, but she could barely feel it. She could barely feel the log they were sitting on, barely feel Perrin's arm around her. He was speaking but she couldn't hear it, as though the Power was stopping her ears. She bit her tongue against throwing up -- food was too precious to waste -- with bile etching her throat, and fought down the urge to scream, to fling herself at something, even one of the trees, and beat her fists against it until the very wood hurt like this hole in her chest.

Numbness was cracking and breaking into agony like no beating among the Shaido had been, no humiliation had been. 

Thoughts flickered at the edge of her mind. 

Her mother had wanted a half-dozen grandchildren to spoil, and Faile had looked forward to giving them to her, to seeing the light in her eyes as she played with children dark-haired and dark-eyed. She had wanted to see her father tossing them in the air as he had once tossed her, his powerful arms catching them. 

They never would. Her children would never -- 

Water fell on her hands, clenched into fists in front of her. Only then did she feel the tears on her cheeks snaking down, realize she couldn't see for the heat in her eyes, know she was crying. She closed her eyes, a wail in her throat trying to break through clenched teeth, and found herself in Perrin's lap. She latched onto his shirt with both hands, before she cut into her hands any worse, and broke into sobs she could not choke back. 

She should not try to choke them back. Hadn't she pushed Perrin to this, to grieve? How had he ever stopped, once he started? 

It hurt. 

It hurt more than she had known anything could hurt, and she lost everything but the solid strength of Perrin holding her close to the pain. 

+++ 

Perrin had known it would be bad. 

Faile felt everything so strongly, reacted so passionately to every event, and even with how little time he had spent with his mad Saldaean in-laws, he'd known they were close. Known they loved each other. 

He hadn't known it would feel like his own heart was being ripped out of his chest as confusion turned into denial, as denial turned into something blank and flat. He tried to talk to her, to tell her... anything, that he understood, that Graendal had done something to her father and that was probably what had killed him, but she wasn't hearing him. Then pain and rage and blood had filled his nose until he coughed against it, and still she was silent. He looked down, and saw she'd made fists tight enough to draw blood. Tears joined the blood, salt-reek adding to the pain-scent, and a high noise rattled in her throat. That was better than silence.

"Faile, Faile," he murmured, reaching to pull her into his lap, settle her close -- at least he could give her that -- and her hands fisted into his shirt at either shoulder, hard enough almost to tear it, but what did that matter? She was really crying now, sobbing with her pain when she wasn't screaming, and all he could do was rock her. Rock her so gently, carefully, and tell her over and over again that he was with her. 

It took a long, long while before his wife was quiet. He wouldn't have cared if it took until the sun sank again... but it was probably good that it didn't. There would be -- there were so many things that would have to be done. 

But as Tam had said, it could all wait. All he cared about, right now, was Faile. She'd done this for him, once. He would for her. 

She lay against his wrecked shirt for a few minutes, after her shoulders went still and her scent subsided into a quiet kind of grief -- like the smell of an Aes Sedai whose Warder had died (and why had that become a thing he was so very familiar with?). Probably like his own smell, after he'd gone home to the Two Rivers and found out. 

She stirred, sitting up a little, and Perrin let his grip slack in response. 

"Faile?" 

"Mmm-hmm," she answered, and coughed a little. "Right. Water." 

This wasn't the wolf dream, he reminded himself, when the waterskins stayed stubbornly on the grass and fallen leaves instead of one appearing in his hand because he thought it. This was the real world, the waking world. He sighed, tucked her against his chest, and leaned to get one for her. He unstopped it and held it for her, tipping it a little. 

She drank, then used some of it to scrub at her face with just her hands after a single glance at her clothes. 

Oh, Light, she was still in what she'd been wearing on the battlefield, he hadn't -- 

"Perrin," she said, her voice rough, "if you can take us anywhere, take us to our bedroom in the Two Rivers. I want clean clothes without having to see anyone." 

"Anything you want," he agreed, and stood up with her in his arms. He didn't bother to pick up the empty pack, he could get Tam a better one if it was missed. He shifted them into the wolf dream, then to the new Two Rivers, with all of its industry and change. To the house that had been built for them, that still seemed too fine. 

How long since they'd been here? Too long. He walked in and through, up into the wolf dream of their bedroom, and shifted them back out into the waking world. No-one was here, of course. It sparkled, and the sheets smelled as though they'd just come down from the lines. Ridiculous that someone had gone to this effort while they weren't even here. 

He put Faile down on her feet, and she turned to hug him, tight enough that it ached in his ribs. "If you get what you want, we can go back into the wolf dream, and I can make a good hot bath for us. 

"I'll get clean things, too." 

"You can -- my husband, how can -- never mind. I don't care. Yes. Please." 

Faile disappeared into her wardrobe, smelling just an edge of shocked beyond her iron control, and he smiled a little. It was good to surprise Faile, at least a little, with something that could make things better. He moved to his own, digging out clean clothes for himself, good sturdy Two Rivers things for the most part, but the finer smallclothes he'd gotten a fondness for in Cairhien. 

She emerged a little after, with things carefully held far from her body, and Perrin wrapped his arm around her to shift them into the wolf dream again. He walked with her to the Winespring, and beside it drew water into a copy of a bath in the Stone that he remembered, making it hot with his will. He made towels and washcloths, too, the best he had ever seen, and the soap she loved. 

Faile smelled more than a little shocked, now, but she dropped everything on the grass and started on her buttons as though she was afraid the tub would disappear. "Will you let me help you?" 

"Oh -- oh, Perrin," Faile murmured, half-choked, "I... I think I'll start crying again." 

"That's all right," he answered, "I understand." 

He did, all too well. 

"You would," Faile replied, "and I... when I can, I will. But I have to beat this news to my brother, which means I have to get clean, and then ask you to take me to Bashere. Maedin should be there -- please, Light, let someone have kept him there, let duty have restrained him..." 

"Your little brother," Perrin said, nodding -- he remembered the mention of the boy, but... Faile had said something, what... ah. Two years younger than she was. Not a boy, in the Borderlands. If he was at all like his father, could anything have kept him off a horse when the Last Battle came? Perrin wasn't sure, but he would hope along with her. "Of course."

Faile scrambled over the edge of the tub and started scrubbing herself, and Perrin made a copy of the bath to use himself, before stripping to his own skin. He had a brother-in-law to worry about, he'd forgotten that. Much as he wanted to hold his wife, to rejoice in that they both had lived -- they had a brother to find, before someone else brought the news. 

"Perrin? I didn't mean -- you didn't have to -- " 

He loathed hearing her like that. "We have a brother to find, my wife," he answered. "If I climbed in with you, it would be longer before we could -- which doesn't mean I don't want to." 

That made her laugh, to his relief -- it was what he had been hoping for -- and her voice was calm as she answered. "All right." 

She was quiet except for splashing for a minute. "Will this... will I really be clean, out in the real world?" 

"We're here in the flesh," Perrin answered, "so yes. I couldn't make you clean clothes here that would go out with us, but the water works like water." 

"Like _him_ ," Faile said. "You learned how to match him." 

"I did, and he's dead," Perrin agreed, letting the heat beat against his back for a long minute, ears barely above the water. 

"Good," Faile said with a vicious satisfaction that was the most familiar thing he'd heard since he'd told her about her parents. He hummed wordless agreement, and scrubbed with some of Mistress Luhhan's good soap. 

Faile's voice rose again, suddenly. "I never expected -- Tenobia was in such good health. I don't even want the Broken Crown. For a son, or a daughter, maybe, if she never got around to having children, yes, but... she wasn't old. I know you hate being even Steward of the Two Rivers... how much worse are you going to be about being King of Saldaea?" 

"What?" 

They'd told him Faile should be queen, when they all had given up on her, he remembered that. But. _King_? What fool nonsense was this?

"In Saldaea," she said, patiently, "the monarch's spouse is co-monarch. You will be King, not prince consort or some other fool southland title." 

"Faile, I'm -- I'm not _ta'veren_ any more, I can't feel the Pattern, I'm not..." He was more than a blacksmith, now, he had to admit that. He had the allegiance of a queen, if Alliandre lived. Light, let her live still. 

"You are my husband. You are the leader of the Wolf Guard and the Lord Steward of the Two Rivers, liege lord of Ghealdan," Faile replied, "and it's terribly likely you're going to add King of Saldaea to the list of your titles. Unless the new Crown High Council does something incredibly stupid.

"I'm sorry, Perrin." 

"Don't be," he answered, instantly, pushing up and leaning across the space between their tubs to reach for her hand. "You're worth all the hassle of all of it. A hundred times over, my wife." Another day, he'd have told her he did wish her father had just been a seller of ice peppers and furs. 

But if he was, she would not have been the woman that saved his life so many times. Saved his sanity and definitely kept him safe in the political currents he had no understanding of. 

"My husband," Faile replied, turning to smile at him, "you say the most wonderful things sometimes." 

At least he'd managed to make her smile. "I try." He let go of her hand, and finished getting clean. He climbed out, drying off with a luxurious towel, and worked on getting into his clothes again. That was better than thinking about that even with the Last Battle over, with his _ta'veren_ link to Rand severed -- Light, Rand, was gone, and it hurt, regret bitter in his chest and throat -- he was now going to have to shoulder even more responsibility than ever. He didn't want to take too long a look at that, right now. 

He heard Faile climb out of her tub, and the scrub of the towel over her skin, and turned to watch -- and help -- as she got dressed. He helped pull her stays tight and tied them, and gently helped settle the dress into place, waiting for her to button it. 

She smelled brittle, and like she was trying to force herself to speak, and he waited out her wounded silence, drying her hair with a touch and a thought -- which made her yelp, her hands snapping up to her hair. "That," she said, "was disconcerting, Perrin! Warn me, next time!" 

"Of course," he answered. "I'm sorry, I just... your dress is too lovely to leave water-marks all over it." 

She turned and pushed up onto her toes to kiss him for that, though it ended too soon, sooner than she would at any other time. "Thank you, husband. I -- how? How did it happen? Maedin will want to know." 

Perrin shook his head. "I'm not... entirely sure. There wasn't a lot of time to talk, or get reports. I don't even remember who told me. But... Heartseeker -- Graendal -- I saw her doing something in the dreams, manipulating Bashere and the other Captains, but I couldn't stop her. I tried to warn Elayne, and Aviendha, but I don't know how quick it worked. Time was... a problem, minutes for me were hours outside, and minutes in the Bore were like a day. If she Compelled him... almost anything could have happened, but it wasn't his fault. Not after being attacked by a Forsaken." 

Faile's scent swelled with grief, and anger, and a savage scent of pride that almost confused him, but then he realized. It had taken a Forsaken to bring her father down. Who wouldn't be proud of that? 

He pressed a kiss to her hair, carefully. She relaxed back against him, just a little, and he breathed easier. 

"Light illumine you, father," she said, soft, as she crouched back down to pick up a set of her knives from the house (he would have to make her new ones, with Neald's help -- had Neald survived? -- Power-wrought blades worth her) and tuck them away into the places they belonged, "and you, mother. Creator shelter you in the palm of His hand. All right. Saldaea, please, my husband." 

He let everything he had made flick back into nothingness, called _Mah'alleinir_ to his belt-loops and left the filthy clothes abandoned. 

+++ 

Finding Faile's brother, his brother-in-law, wasn't as difficult as Perrin had been afraid of. He had -- miraculously -- been at the imposing fortified city that was, apparently, Faile's home. One of their homes, now, maybe? There was a city of tents around its walls and inside as well, and a powerful reek of humanity. Women, young children, babes still in arms and old men who could not have marched to Tarmon Gai'don. Perrin had seen signs of harassment by Shadowspawn, but it couldn't have been too heavy an assault. Nothing like Merrilor. Nothing like Kandor. 

He had shifted them out of the wolf dream a good distance from the city of tents, and they had walked up together. It was only early dawn in Saldaea, but there had been a shout from a guard on the outer picket, and then another, and Faile had hardly needed to speak to be ushered through the camp and into the Keep. Most of what she had said had been variations on 'My husband, Lord Perrin Aybara -- Perrin Goldeneyes', as a matter of fact. 

They'd been shown into a reception chamber, and soon an exhausted-looking young man that so strongly favored Davram Bashere that Perrin's chest ached to see him came into the room. 

"Zari -- " 

" _Faile_ ," his wife cut off her brother. "My name is Faile. Hello, Maedin." 

"Sister," Maedin replied, crossing to reach for her, stark relief in his face, "I'm so glad to see you. I'm too tired to be polite. Who is this, and what news do you have?" 

"My husband, Perrin Goldeneyes," Faile answered as she embraced her brother as tightly as he held to her. "I'll trot out the titles later. You look wretched." 

"Your -- well, he looks like he could handle you. Hello, brother, and welcome." 

Perrin smiled, shocked into it by the open acceptance, and Faile smelled like joy instead of grief for a moment. "Thank you... brother. I'm glad to meet you."

"And you. News, sister?" 

"Sit down, Maedh," Faile said, and pulled him towards a bench. He dropped onto it tiredly, and she sat down next to him. 

"That bad?" 

"Worse. Perrin saw one of the Forsaken attack Father. He -- he's gone, Maed. And Mother." 

"What?" In that word, he did sound young, sound and look it. "No, Faile, surely..." 

"I'm sorry. I'm -- not dealing with this well, either. Worse than that... Tenobia fell on the battlefield as well." 

" _Light_ ," Maedin swore, a hoarse rasp in his throat, "that means you're the queen, then. You, _Queen_ of Saldaea. What are you doing _here_ , instead of -- " 

"Maradon is nearly dead," Faile said, "most of the Crown High Council likely fell behind our cousin, and you're my brother. I wasn't having some channeller make a Gateway here and tell you before I could. Or having you get entangled in one of their plots, either. I _am_ Father's heir. I was afraid you'd left and followed Lan -- al'Lan -- to Tarwin's Gap, and no-one had known to tell me you had fallen." 

Maedin shook his head, smelling of resolve and regret. "I would have, when the word spread south that he rode from World's End -- but Father told me to hold here, for our people's sake, so I have, bitter as that was. But blood and ash, sister, it's... hard. Tenobia took many of the men he did leave me when she went south, and more just -- left, heading east. Men that have served our family for generations, just -- leaving. If there'd been any kind of concerted attack here like at Maradon?" 

"There wasn't," Faile said, her voice softer than he was used to, "and you've done well here. Things looked orderly enough. Father would be proud." 

"Would he?" Maedin asked, his hands clenching on themselves, and Perrin looked away. "I -- I'm not ready, Zarine...." 

"Neither am I," she almost whispered, not even growling at him at using her birth name, and Perrin heard it as the siblings wrapped arms around each other. "But we have to go on. I've got you... I've got you." 

Light, his wife was so strong. Not an hour ago, she'd been the one sobbing, and now she held her brother as he lost a struggle with tears. Perrin wished he could help, but they were strangers, for now. Best he let Faile take care of her brother, and was ready to take care of her when she needed it. 

+++ 

Faile stood up, two hours later, a sheaf of paper in her hands -- she had sent their brother back to bed, told him to sleep himself out, when his tears stopped, and sent for their quartermaster and guard-captain instead -- and started figuring out what this city of refugees needed most. Perrin had mostly stood by and listened, amazed as always by his wife's ability to manage things. She might have hated the lessons and necessity when she ran away, but oh, she was amazing at it. 

"All right," she said, "I'll return as soon as I am able, by Gateway or my husband's gifts. Until then... you're both doing wonderfully. Father would be proud, and so am I." 

Both men bowed, Saldaean-fashion, and straightened.

"Perrin," Faile went on, a steady weight of presence in her voice he was only used to when she was holding a court, "can you take me to Balwer? I need him more than ever, now." 

"Of course," Perrin agreed, and took her hand to shift them through the wolf dream, back to Merrilor, to where Balwer should be. His wife's spymaster was probably the exact person she needed to talk to, it was very true. 

He wasn't sure how any of this was going to end, or what the Pattern thought it was doing, putting him in this kind of position... but he and Faile were together, and together they could weather anything. Even repairing this battered kingdom.


End file.
